(written in Roxas first person. 'he' refers to Axel)
He pushes the "pause" button on the remote, freezing Rosario Dawson and Adam Pascal in their awkward introduction.
"Oh god." I think. I know for sure where this is going.
He senses that I know. "C'mon…" he whines, "please?"
"No." I say sternly. "I WILL NOT."
"Pretty-please?" he grovels.
"No."
"Pleeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssseeeeee?" he bitches, starting to get really annoying. Then he finds my weak spot. "I won't stop bugging you until you do."
"Fine." I snarl. "Get me the frick'n candle so we can get this over with."
He hands me a small candle. I cup it in my hands, look up at him with wide eyes, and push out my bottom lip, then state the ultimate humiliation:
"Would you light my candle?"
I even give him a little singsong cutsy-ness with it. He won't be satisfied otherwise, anyhow.
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and brace myself for what always comes next, and next thing I know there's a rush of heat and my coat's been reduced to ashes.
This is why I never watch Rent with Axel.